Poetry about mental health

Born song author: Monkey Field Mountain Man

Be calm and cheerful, and be strict with yourself.

The food is varied and nutritious. Don't try to be brave when you are sick.

Exercise is important in moderation, and beneficial hobbies should be carried forward.

Amuse yourself and take care of yourself, and your physical and mental health will last long.

"That's not my paradise" —— Memories of The Pearl

That's not my paradise. If there is no romance there, heaven is not the place I yearn for. I yearn for the wind-I yearn for the wings of Dapeng. Dapeng swept the clouds for nine days under the wind, and went to Wan Li Road. I long for flowers, and I long for the graves of soldiers. The flowers between the graves of warriors are filled with chivalrous fragrance. I'm dying for snow-I'm dying for snow.

Farewell to Cambridge-Xu Zhimo

I left quietly, just as I came gently; I waved my hand gently and bid farewell to the clouds in the western sky. The golden willow by the river is the beautiful image of the bride in the sunset, rippling in my heart. The green grass on the soft mud is swaying under the water. In the gentle waves of He Kanghe River, I would like to be a pool under the shade of aquatic plants, not a clear spring, but a rainbow in the sky broken among floating algae, precipitating a rainbow-like dream. Looking for dreams? Supporting a long pole, wandering to a greener place on the grass, loading a boat with starlight, singing in the splendor of starlight, but I can't sing, just a farewell flute quietly; Summer insects are also silent for me, silence is Cambridge tonight! I left quietly, just as I came quietly; I waved my sleeve without taking away a cloud.

Love life

Wang Guozhen

I don't think about whether I can succeed or not.

Now that I have chosen a distant place,

I only care about the hardships.

I don't think about whether I can win love.

Because I like roses,

Just show your sincerity bravely.

I don't think about whether there will be cold wind and rain behind me.

Because the target is the horizon.

Only the back is left to the world.

I don't think about whether the future is flat or muddy.

As long as you love life.

Everything is expected.

Believe in the future

forefinger

When cobwebs mercilessly sealed my stove.

When the smoke of ashes sighs the sorrow of poverty

I still stubbornly smooth away the ashes of disappointment.

Write with beautiful snowflakes: believe in the future.

When my purple grapes turn into dew in late autumn

When my flowers snuggle up to other people's feelings

I still stubbornly use frosted vines.

Write on the desolate land: believe in the future.

I want to use my fingers to stir the waves that rush to the horizon.

I want to hold the sun in my hand.

The warm and beautiful pen flickers with the dawn.

Write with a child's pen: believe in the future.

I believe in the future.

Yes, I believe that people's eyes in the future

She brushed away the eyelashes of history.

She has a student who can read through the years.

No matter what people think of our rotting bodies.

Those lost blues, the pain of failure.

It was tears of emotion and deep sympathy.

Or give a contemptuous smile and bitter ridicule?

I firmly believe that people are interested in our spine.

Countless explorations, lost ways, failures and successes.

I will definitely give a warm, objective and fair evaluation.

Yes, I am anxiously waiting for their comments.

Friends, believe in the future.

Believe in indomitable efforts

Young people who believe in overcoming death.

Believe in the future and love life.

Lightning flashes at your fingertips.

Onions.

Lightning flashed through your fingertips,

Everything on it: shock and vibration,

Impulse and hunger,

A complete or disorderly desire.

Lightning flashed through your fingertips,

You say, be gentle,

This is the only unobstructed path in the jungle.

This is a stream, nourishing your hidden poetry.

This is the deep grass that makes the night burn.

Let you burn!

Time and time again, peaks and valleys,

Where is your voice?

Where's your expression?

Where is the hard mast behind the tide?

Where are the banks and rivers you guide?

After the storm,

The valley where I live!

Lightning flashed through your fingertips,

I feel all the smell of wet land.

Drop after drop of rain,

Excitement followed by excitement,

Living, warm,

All this belongs to you!

You said to me: the gap in the dry mountain,

It will also be full of blood.

That night, I didn't know how to vent on you,

Those crazy words turned into poems,

All I remember is,

I was unstoppable at that moment,

Shout the stone alive!